The Witch and the Muggle
by SiriuslyLoopyDora
Summary: St Andrew's Day was mostly a day of mixed emotions for Minerva McGonagall. Dislike, dislike and more dislike. However, every year she was forced to go to the celebrations by her religious father. Every year was the same. Until 1954... that's the Dougal McGregor effect on her. ONE SHOT (Betas: imshadowhunterdemigoddivergent and yankeebornandbred)


**First of all HAPPY ST ANDREWS DAY EVERYBODY!**

 **Secondly, I don't think St Andrews Day would be treated this big. But for the benefit of the story I have made it big. I wouldn't know because I don't have any Scottish roots but I am a Catholic Christian so do sort of celebrate.**

 **A big shoutout to my amazing beta i'mashadowhunterdemigoddivergent! Who helped me through this story and the amazing yankeebornandbred who has also helped me with more than one story!**

 **Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling**

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November 30th was probably the most tiresome day of the year. The same old routine happened without a fault.

Minerva McGonagall was harshly wrenched from her sleep by the cacophonous wheeze of her father's ancient bagpipes. It wouldn't have been as horrible if he had actually known how to play. The caterwauling bounced off the walls of the house and pounded against Minerva's luckless eardrums, which were still accustomed to the night time silence.

Groaning in dismay, she lifted her frowsy head and scowled blearily at the clock, knowing full well to what time the damnable hands would point. Six o'clock in the freaking morning, just like last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and on, and on, and on. Her father always woke her and her brothers up with those darned bagpipes. This year's attempt at 'Scotland the Brave' was even worse than the previous years.

The bagpipes stopped abruptly and Minerva flopped back on her pillow with a sigh of relief.

"Wake up, McGonagalls, today is a glorious day!" Robert McGonagall sang at the top of his voice. He clumped down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Minerva wasn't surprised when her two brothers, Malcolm and Robert Jr., came in, looking just about as disgruntled as she felt.

"I think he is the only Reverend to celebrate Saint Andrew's Day more vigorously than Christmas," Malcolm lamented as he plopped onto the end of Minerva's bed, his lanky teenaged body dangling dangerously off both sides of her bed.

Robert snorted and rolled his eyes.

"More like the only person in all of Christendom."

Minerva glared at her brothers.

"That is very narrow-minded of you. I am sure there are a lot of Christians who love Saint Andrew's Day more than Christmas."

They shot her a disbelieving look.

"Saint Andrew's Day is all right."

The disbelief changed to outrage.

"For most people…" she concluded, chuckling half-heartedly and running a hand through her dishevelled dark locks.

Her brothers burst into laughter.

Wiping a tear of mirth from his grey eyes, Robert replied, "Just not for us, because Dad goes overboard."

"Who goes around blaring 'Scotland the Brave' at six o'clock to wake up their less than enthusiastic children?" Malcolm giggled.

"He's never going to change, though. We'll all be in our forties and he will go down the streets with those bagpipes until he wakes us up," Robert huffed.

All three shivered at the awful thought.

With an evil grin on his face, Robert suggested, "Min, you know you're of age to do magic…"

Minerva raised a suspicious brow. Indeed, she was the only one of the siblings who was of age, having turned seventeen more than two years ago. Her brothers, however, had no such luck. Robert had only recently turned fifteen and Malcolm was two years younger. Strictly speaking, they should both have been at Hogwarts today, but Mr. McGonagall always pulled his children out of school on November 29th and 30th, and December 1st, just to celebrate Saint Andrew's Day.

"And what is your point?" she pressed with an edge of wariness to her tone.

"Could you, by any chance, wave your wand and vanish the bagpipes?"

That was one of the best ideas Robert had ever come up with, but unfortunately it was impossible to put into action. Mr. McGonagall loved the instrument just about as much as he loved his own children. If it disappeared, blame would fall on the most likely culprit – which was Minerva – and things might become... unpleasant.

"As much as I would love to do that, you know I can't," she chuckled, finally willing her sluggish body to drag itself out of bed.

It was a quarter past six. Minerva turned to her brothers with a knowing look and held up her hand for the countdown. Three... two... one...

"BREAKFAST IS READY!" her mother bellowed.

Robert and Malcolm dashed past her and down the stairs, thumping loudly all the way. Minerva stumbled back a little from their joint onslaught and bit back a laugh before following them.

Breakfast was really the only good part of the day, because instead of their usual breakfast porridge, the table was covered with plates of toast, jam, beans, butter, and crumpets and they could pick and choose their favourites.

They sat down in their respective seats. Just as Malcolm reached to get some food, Mrs. McGonagall waved her hand and a slapping sound could be heard, even though the woman was on the opposite side of the table.

Mr. McGonagall sent his wife a look, but shrugged off the use of magic, instead reprimanding Robert for laughing.

"That is quite enough." He inhaled deeply in before continuing, "We need to say prayers."

They all closed their eyes and put their hands together as Mr. McGonagall proceeded to say grace.

 _"God, our loving Father,_

 _St. Andrew introduced Peter,_

 _The Greek visitors,_

 _And the little boy with loaves and fishes,_

 _To your Son, Jesus Christ._

 _May we be like him_

 _In sharing friendship and hospitality,_

 _And in faithfulness to Jesus_

 _And his Kingdom of justice,_

 _Love and peace._

 _May our country be a community_

 _In which everyone matters,_

 _Everyone has an honoured place,_

 _And the dignity of each is assured_

 _By our faith in you as Father of us all._

 _We ask this through Christ our Lord._

 _Amen."_

"Amen," they all replied in unison.

Minerva didn't believe in God. Not a lot of the wizarding world did; their explanation was that magic created the earth. However, that didn't stop her from saying grace with her father at mealtimes out of respect.

As soon as the prayer was finished, Malcolm dived straight back into the food, snatching three pieces of toast and the jam jar. Minerva herself simply ate toast with butter, not being too keen on overly sweetened food.

The morning continued as it always had. After breakfast they went upstairs to wash and dress. Minerva wore a new short sleeved white blouse with the top button done up, black flare skirt that reached past her knees, and black cardigan, all of which had been specially reserved for this day. They then proceeded on to a two hour long Mass duringwhich her father gave the whole life story of Saint Andrew). At one point she almost fell asleep. After Mass came the very worst event of the day... the parade.

In other words, crowds of drunk people shouting and dancing, and bumping into her. In Edinburgh, the parade actually looked amazing. However, on the outskirts of Caithness, all it included was a couple of men on bagpipes, some elderly women, who handed out the few flowers that were still alive this late in the year, and children dressed up in costumes and waving from a large tractor.

Making her way up to the main street where the parade was held, Minerva could see that most of the men and quite a few of the women were already intoxicated.

"Why must everyone be so rowdy and drunk? It's only bloody 11 o'clock in the morning," she whispered to herself, annoyed.

"Language, Minerva." Mr. McGonagall sent a heated look towards his daughter. "You may be an adult, but that is still no excuse for such foul language from a lady."

"So it's bad when I swear a little, but it's okay for these people to get absolutely squiffy. Doesn't the Bible go against drinking?"

Minerva crossed her arms smugly as her father blushed a little.

"Well-"

"People do some very sinful things when drunk, such as getting into fights, not treating others how they would want to be treated, doing stuff out of marriage…"

She trailed off, her lips turning up slightly on her normally stern features as she stared at her father's flustered face.

"That's enough, Minerva," Mrs McGonagall intervened, chuckling and hugging her husband's waist.

"I'm just stating the truth, Daddy. Not only are drunk people extremely annoying, but drinking is a sin."

To her, they were just annoying, but she had to appeal to his minister side.

Coughing awkwardly, he inclined his head and replied, "Well, I will bring it up in church tomorrow."

Minerva laughed and kissed her father on the cheek as they finally made it to the street.

The whole crowd was roaring with excitement.

"Whose turn is it to try and get the drinks this year?" Mrs. McGonagall inquired, glancing between her three children.

"Min's," Malcolm and Robert said simultaneously, pointing at her.

"Oh, goodie," she said sarcastically, as her mother as her mother handed her some money. She sighed as she headed towards the nearest pub. There were waves of screeching, drunken revellers to battle through.

It was not an easy task. More than once, someone knocked into her and nearly tossed her to the ground. Suddenly, she had thudded down onto the hard cobbles, grunting in pain as a male figure fell on top of her.

"Get off me this instant," she snapped, feeling acutely uncomfortable as the crowd cheered at her compromising position, and she shoved the offending body in emphasis.

The man immediately stood, towering over her. Glancing up, Minerva took a second to take in the buffoon who had knocked her to the ground. He was quite tall, with a mop of blond hair that looked tousled and untidy, probably from a battle with the crowd similar to her own. His eyes widened at her furious glare, and she noted with gratification that they were a clear, light green. Rather beautiful actually... but that was beside the point.

"Sorry, Miss." Looking abashed, he moved to help her up.

Minerva frowned.

"You damn well should be!" she huffed, straightening her skirt haughtily. Rising up without his help, she stormed away. He was quick to follow her.

"Hey, hey, hey! Slow down! I didn't mean to knock into you." He stretched his arm out in front of her to slow her down. She smoothly ducked underneath the long limb.

"Please stop!"

Minerva turned.

"What?"

Her voice was sterner than usual. He reddened in embarrassment.

"I just want to apologise properly."

The blush made Minerva raise her brow, and it struck her suddenly that this man was very good looking. The thought made her blush. Coughing awkwardly, she replied, "Well, go on then."

His look of suspicion transformed instantly into a wicked smile, as though his self-confidence had come flooding back into him.

"Well, before I start blubbering repentant apologies, I think we had better introduce ourselves," he shouted over the roar of the crowd. The parade had just started.

The witch couldn't help but smile a little, her frustration melting away easily. She frowned a little. That happened very rarely. "Is that so?"

He continued to smile. "Indeed. I'm Dougal... Dougal McGregor."

Dougal McGregor. She liked that… but she didn't like liking that. Since when had anyone – especially someone who had just pissed her off – gotten under her skin so thoroughly?"

"I'm Minerva McGonagall," she replied curtly, getting bumped closer to him by the people nearest her.

The man's eyes widened in shock, "Wait, you're the Reverend's daughter?"

Her face pressed into a grim line. She hated when people referred to her in that way.

"The one and only."

Noticing her negative response, he smiled.

"Cool name, though. Just like the Roman goddess?"

"Yeah, I was named after my grandmother, who in turn was named after the goddess of wisdom," she laughed with a shrug.

Dougal was about to say something, but the noise was overpowering. Instead, he took her hand and started dragging her away from the parade.

"Wh-What are you doing?" Minerva protested.

"Going somewhere where we can talk and I can get to know you better. You can't go until I apologise." Dougal gave a coy smirk. Finally they made it past the stampede and ran away from the centre of the village, ending up almost all the way by the fields.

"I have a feeling you aren't going to apologise for a while." Minerva gave a joyful breathy chuckle as she panted in exhaustion.

"You're smart." Dougal winked at her, though his smile was shy now.

"You're very confusing," Minerva replied, genuinely confused by the specimen beside her.

"How so?" He looked slightly taken aback as he got up and began to walk again, slowing down so she could catch up.

"You're confident and shy at the same time. I can't work you out," she admitted, staring at the ground in perplexity.

"I like to keep people thinking," he responded, cheeks tinging pink.

"Thinking about you?"

He snorted. "Exactly."

There was a pleasant interval of silence as they continued to walk; only the distant sound of music could be heard.

"Magic," Dougal said suddenly.

Stopping in her tracks, Minerva felt all the blood drain from her face. "What?"

Dougal turned around, alarmed.

"I said magic."

This silence was much tenser than the last. Minerva's hand twitched towards the wand that was hidden in her pocket.

Dougal chuckled nervously.

"Minerva is also the goddess of magic."

Relief washed over the witch immediately and her hand relaxed.

"Yeah," she sighed, and began to list off all the others she could think of. "Also poetry, medicine, commerce, weaving, and crafts."

"She's one hell of a lass," Dougal joked. "She was also a virgin."

Minerva sent him a quizzical look. "Are you implying something?"

This produced the biggest blush, racing rapidly down the base of his neck.

"Shit, no! No! I was just stating it."

Minerva hummed, not quite believing him.

"That's two things I have to apologise for now, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Giving him a sideways glance, she chortled.

"These apologies are building up."

The rest of the day continued like that. They carried on walking and Dougal carried on doing things that he would need to apologise for at the end of the day. One, for example, included accidentally tripping and making them both land in the lake. It was hardly a romantic moment, though; she simply swam straight back to the shore and left him laughing as he floated about in the water. She wished she could have used magic to warm herself up at that moment, but she couldn't risk it.

It was only when it hit eight o'clock that she finally looked regretfully at her watch and informed him, "I think it's time I get home. Dad will be worried."

Dougal looked up, shifting onto his side and resting his head on his hand. "Will I see you again?"

She gave a mockingly thoughtful look.

"I'll have to think about it."

Dougal chuckled in return and continued to smile at her. "How has your Saint Andrew's Day been?"

Minerva blissfully closed her eyes. "Amazing compared to every other year."

"That's good to hear."

She smiled sweetly at him. "I should say thank you, because it was all because of you."

"My pleasure. C'mon, let's get you home," he answered, grinning.

It took about fifteen minutes of endless laughter to get back to her house.

"I think I have been hit with the Dougal McGregor effect, because today was a very good day," she told him, to which he beamed happily.

They both stared at her house down the pathway; the lights were still on. Minerva knew that her family had to be involved in a heated game of Monopoly right now… just like every other year.

"You're not going to apologise?" Minerva smiled, raising one of her brows.

"Nope, I guess you have to see me again," he replied thoughtfully, "so I can finally apologise one day."

She chuckled and suddenly there was a hand on her waist, and Dougal was leaning towards her… immediately she put her hand onto his chin and twisted his head to peck him on the cheek.

After all, she was still Minerva McGonagall… and she wasn't easy for anyone.

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 **Okay I hope you enjoyed it. The views of McGonagall I had to laugh at when she was talking about alcohol because I can literally just imagine her getting disgusted at anyone who acted silly around her. I don't have the same beliefs, I am very open to people drinking as long as they don't get violent.**

 **Once again a big thank you to my beta!**

 **The next story will be in the Christmas Holidays and it is 'A Proposal to Remember' (Summary:** **The moment has come. As James, Remus and Sirius slowly fall in love, they finally decide to pop the question. But will everything go according to plan? Well, it is the Marauders we're talking about... RLNT JPLE SBMM (Beta: ThatRandomMushroom)**

 **Also I think we need to make a petition to get Dougal McGregor a character on here because I don't like having him as an OC when he is real in the world of Harry Potter!**

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


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